


Unbound

by devitameatball



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dragons, Original Character(s), Rebellion, Skyrim Main Quest, backstories, some changes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-10-17 03:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10585134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devitameatball/pseuds/devitameatball
Summary: After days of running from Imperial Soldiers in Cyrodiil, a homeless Imperial somehow ends up in Skyrim, getting caught up in an ambush. Will she finally be able to start over and leave her criminal past behind her, or do the gods have something else in mind?





	1. A Fresh Start

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Nobody ever writes Skyrim fic anymore apparently ;-;

My eyes shot open as I rattled around on the seat of the wagon, startling me into consciousness. I blinked a few times, my vision blurry. I racked my brain, trying to recollect the events that had previously transpired.

_They followed me on horseback, anticipating my eventual capture. They knew they had me cornered. There was nowhere for me to go. They weren’t expecting to me to flee into the woods, the lush, green trees obstructing their view of me. I kept running after they stopped, begging my legs to go faster. I didn’t know where I was or where I was going. I could still smell the blood covering my face, the scent becoming overwhelmed by the scent of pine._

_I ended up on the outskirts of a small, makeshift camp, overrun by Imperial soldiers. I recognized their armor. The blue flag flown by the men they fought could only mean one thing: rebels. I knew I was in Skyrim. A different province, a different land. A place completely foreign to me. A man draped in elegant furs stepped in front of the rebelling Nords, raising a hand to the Imperial soldiers in surrender. I couldn’t hear him over the screams of protest from the rebels, and didn’t think to hide before the Imperials grabbed me too._

I blinked again, moving to raise a hand to the blood crusting on my face. I winced, realizing that my hands were bound with a thick twine. _They think I’m a rebel._ I set my hands back in my lap, yelping as the touched the large gash on my thigh.

“Hey, you.”

I looked forward, finally realizing that I shared the wagon with other prisoners. The blonde man across from me stare, a weak smile on his face. “You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border right?” I nodded. “Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.”

He gestured with his bound hands to the man on the seat next to him, a scrawny Nord in rags similar to mine. “Damn you Stormcloaks.”

_Stormcloaks. Gods, I really am in Skyrim._

“Skyrim was fine until you came along.” The thief continued. “Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell. You there…” He turned to face me. “You and me, we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

The blonde scoffed. “We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.”

The soldier driving the carriage turned around to shush them, and the thief turned his attention to my right. “And what’s wrong with him, huh?”

The man seated next to me seemed… familiar. He was gagged, a white cloth stuffed into his mouth and tied tightly to his head. He definitely looked sad, defeated maybe. I quickly realized, that was the man who surrendered to the Imperials.

“Watch your tongue.” The blonde snapped. “You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.”

I felt my jaw drop, my expression most likely matching the thief’s. I had heard about this man in Cyrodiil. He was all anyone could talk about. A million questions flooded my thoughts. _Did he really kill the High King? Does he really have the voice of a dragon?_

The thief stuttered, looking for the right words. “Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?” Ulfric nodded, then turned his gaze to me. I took note of the sadness in his eyes. “But, if they’ve captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?”

“I don’t know where we’re going,” The blonde rebel looked to the sky. “But Sovngarde awaits.” The thief began to panic, so the rebel tried talking to him to calm him down. “Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?”

The thief narrowed his eyes. “Why do you care?”

“A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.”

“Rorikstead.” Tears filled the thief’s eyes. “I’m… I’m from Rorikstead.”

The thief began praying, and the blonde turned to face the approaching village. “This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with the juniper berries mixed in.” He laughed to himself, shaking his head. “Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

I watched the village grow around us, and the amount of Imperial soldiers surrounding our wagon began to make me feel uneasy. _I escaped from Imperial guards. Soldiers shouldn’t be a problem, right?_ The soldier driving our wagon slowed to a stop, hopping out to the other prisoner-filled wagon. _Just run._ I thought. _When they let you off, just run. Your legs got you out of the last mess, let them get you out of this one._

I turned my attention back to our wagon, where the thief and the rebel were having a small argument.

“Why have we stopped?”

“Why do you think? End of the line.” The rebel stood slowly. “Let’s go. Shouldn’t keep the gods waiting for us.”

“No! Wait! We’re not rebels!”

“Face your death with some courage, thief.”

The rebel basically pushed the thief off the wagon, then stepped aside to let Ulfric step down before him. I followed soon after, the wounds on my bare feet stinging from the dirt.

The thief turned to Ulfric. “You have to tell them! We weren’t with you. This is a mistake!” I suppressed a laugh, and so did Ulfric. We made eye contact again, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. _He’d tell them if his mouth wasn’t filled with cloth._

A woman in a thick armor stepped towards us, the sun glinting off of her chestplate and hitting me in my good eye. She looked important, a captain. “Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time.”

“Empire loves their damn lists.” The rebel muttered under his breath.

Another Imperial stepped forward, his eyes wide and his brow furrowed. “Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm.”

The rebels cheered as their leader approached the captain, looking at her before turning to the block.

“Ralof of Riverwood.”

The blonde rebel, Ralof,  moved the same as Ulfric, glaring at the captain before moving on.

“Lokir of Rorikstead.”

The thief, Lokir, started panicking again, only this time, Ralof wasn’t there to calm him down. “No!” He looked around quickly, looking for a way out. “I’m not a rebel. You can’t do this!”  Lokir broke off at a sprint, dashing towards the road in escape.

I cheered him on in my head, but immediately stopped as the captain called out. “Archers!” Two soldiers behind her drew their bows, aiming at Lokir and firing deadly sharp arrows. The thief fell, landing on his face and sliding through the dirt. The captain turned back to me and the rest of the rebels. “Anyone else feel like running?”

 _Well,_ I thought. _Not anymore._

The gangly Imperial with the list turned it over in his hands a few times, glancing up at me then flipping it again. “You there.” He pointed to me. “Step forward.” I did, silently cursing myself for not putting up more of a fight. “Who are you?”

I looked around at the captain and the other soldiers, who had finished calling the names of the other rebels. I was the only one left. _If you’re going to do something, do it now._ I sighed, taking another step. “My name is V-” I stopped myself, thinking about the trouble my name had caused me in the past few days. The guards in Bravil had seen my name on the wanted posters, memorized my face.

I reached my tied hands to touch my right eye, mostly cut out and severely mangled. I touched the gashes on my face, new from the arrows grazing my head. _They won’t be able to recognize me._ I thought for a moment, trying not to notice the growing impatience of the soldiers. _Maybe if I don’t tell them, they’ll let me go. If they don’t kill me for not being a rebel, they will if they know I’m a criminal._

Finally, the captain sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “What? Did you forget or something?”

 _I could start over, I could leave Cyrodiil behind for good._ I nodded. _I’ll be fine. No one can find me in Skyrim._

“Captain.” The man stepped forward again, holding the list out for her to see. “She’s not on the list. What should we do?”

The captain shook her head, turning and walking towards the other rebels. “Forget the list, Hadvar. She goes to the block.”

I felt my heart drop. My last chance was gone. Any hope I had for living had vanished. _Maybe this is the gods’ punishment for what I did._

The man, Hadvar, placed his hand on my back, pushing me towards the crowd. “You heard the orders. Follow the captain, prisoner.”

We walked towards them together, standing in the crowd of rebels before Hadvar moved to stand by the captain. She stood by the block, overcast by the menacing shadow of the executioner. Next to him stood a priestess, and a man in a very _gaudy_ and intricately designed armor and skirt, reprimanding Ulfric for his crimes.

“Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But, a hero doesn’t use a power like the voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.” Ulfric responded with muffled grunts, accompanied by the groans of the anxious rebels. “You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the-”

Every head turned to the sky as a low rumble ripped through it, catching everyone off guard. I racked my brain for what the sound was, before Hadvar interrupted my thoughts. “What was that?”

The man in the _ridiculous_ armor shrugged. “It’s nothing. Carry on.”

“Yes, General Tullius.” The captain gestured to the priestess. “Give them their last rites.”

The priestess nodded, raising her arms to the sky. “As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the-”

“For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with.”

A red-haired rebel stepped forward, adjusting the bindings on his wrists. “Come on, I haven’t got all morning.” The priestess nodded, and the captain pushed him onto the block. “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?”

He had the gall to smile as the axe came down, severing his head and coating the captain’s polished boots with blood. Shouts rang out from the rebels, angry with the injustice of execution, and the Imperial soldiers, enraged with the thought of anyone rebelling to the point where beheading became necessary.

Ralof sighed from beside me, gaining my attention. “As fearless as he was in death as he as in life.”

The captain nudged the rebel’s body with her foot, then turned to face the crowd again. “Next, the renegade.”

I looked around for a moment before I realized she was pointing at me. _Renegade?_ I thought. _What is that supposed to mea-_

Another crack of thunder echoed throughout the village, this time louder and more violent. Hadvar sounded nervous. “There it is again! Did you hear that?”

The captain turned to yell at him. “I said, next prisoner!”

Hadvar shook his head, leaning towards me. “To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy.”

I stepped forward, wondering when she was going to move the body out of the way so I could kneel down to the block. She didn’t instead choosing to push me down on top of it. I fought the urge to gag as the fresh blood filled my ear. I locked eyes with the rebel’s severed head, my mind clearing for a moment. _Maybe death won’t be that bad. It will be quick, right? Just… brace yourself._

I tensed, bracing myself for the swing, before the executioner stumbled, dropping his axes to the side. The ground shook violently, the thunder much louder now. I tried to focus my gaze on the building behind him, and the large, blurry object now on top of it. _Was that there befor-_

“What in Oblivion is that!?”

I heard the screaming next to me as the object moved, another crack of thunder sending the rocks surrounding the block flying. I focused through the smoke and saw...eyes.

_Dragon._

The beast was horrifying. Black as the night and roaring, causing more to stumble. As I tried to get a good look at the monstrous thing, a rock crashed into the block near my head, pushing me off of it.

I did my best to stand, not able to use my bound hands. I looked up to find Ralof, gesturing with his own bound hands to follow him. “Hey, Imperial.” I flinched at the term, but looked at him anyway. “Come on! The gods won’t give us another chance!”

_We’re escaping? Okay!_

I followed him quickly, stumbling over my own feet as we headed into a small tower. Ralof shut the door behind us and held his arms out to one of the other rebels, who raised a knife to cut the ropes on his wrists. 

I opened my mouth to ask if he could cut mine as well, but Ralof yelled before I could say anything. “Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?”

I turned to face the jarl as he leaned against the wall with one arm and massaged his jaw with the other. The gag must not have been pleasant. He looked around at all of us frantically before standing upright and massaging the rope burns around his wrists. “Legends don’t burn down villages.”

I thought about that for a moment before Ulfric walked towards us. I shrunk back, intimidated by his height. He towered over me, his gaze still shifting between his followers. “We need to move. Now!”

Ralof grabbed my arm, pulling me behind me as he began to ascend the stairs of the tower. Another rebel waited for us at the top, trying to move some rocks out of the way. The ground shook again as the dragon crashed through the open window, pelting us with rocks and breathing fire on the reel, killing him instantly.

Ralof cursed as the dragon took off again, pushing me towards the opening. “You see that inn on the other side?” I nodded. “Jump through the roof and keep going! We’ll follow when we can.”

I furrowed my brow, looking between him and the inn, trying to figure out if he meant it. “Seriously?” Ralof glared at me, flailing his arms towards the small building. _He’s not joking. Okay._

I took a deep breath, turning from the crumbling wall to take a few steps before running towards the opening, jumping into the air and praying that I landed. I shut my eyes for what seemed like an hour before I hit the floor of the inn, my knees buckling as I rolled across it. “Shit.” I moved onto my back to stand, using my weak legs and immediately growing angry at my inability to use my bound hands.

After steadying myself, I dropped to the first floor of the inn, this time landing on my sore feet. I winced, but bit through the pain as I walked through the door, surprised by how much the dragon had already destroyed the town. _The dragon._ I thought. _This is crazy. This can’t be happening._ I sighed, jogging through the remains of the building beside the inn before stumbling across the soldier with the list from before.

He spoke to a little boy, whom he was pulling away from his hurt father. “Haming, you need to get over here. Now!” He grabbed my arm as well, pulling us both behind a pile of rocks as the dragon landed, roaring a burst of flames before taking off again. The soldier covered the boy's eyes before asking him to stay put again, tears welling in his eyes. I felt my own sadness grow as I realized the dragon must have just killed his father.

“Still alive, prisoner?” I nodded, and the soldier shook his head. “Keep close to me if you want to stay that way.” He grabbed my arm again, racing us past the burnt corpse and down some stairs. The dragon landed on the wall in front of us, and we ducked, hoping it wouldn’t see us. The soldier smiled. “I’m Hadvar, by the way.”

I opened my mouth to speak as he realized the dragon had taken off again, and he pulled me past where it had been. We passed General Tullius again, barking orders to his soldiers and ultimately telling them that they had to retreat.

Hadvar and I approached a clearing. “It’s you and me, prisoner. Stay close.” He smiled at me, before shifting his gaze slightly to my right. I turned to see what he had focused on, only to find the rebel from the wagon. Hadvar frowned. “Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!”

Ralof scoffed, gripping the axe in his hand. “We’re escaping, Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time.” I wondered how he knew his name.

“Fine.” Hadvar straightened, tightening his hold on my arm. “I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde.” He moved to pull me again, this time towards the entrance to a new building. “Come on.”

I tore my arm from his grasp, stumbling backwards and trying my best to stay upright. “No.”  Hadvar’s eyes widened, and I sighed. “You were going to let them cut my head off. I didn’t do anything.”

He tried to say something, but Ralof cut him off, nodding for me to follow him instead. “Escape with us then. Screw the Empire.”

With one final glance at Hadvar, I did follow Ralof into the keep, kicking the door closed behind me. Ralof laughed for a while, placing his hands on his knees to get a hold of himself. “Talos, you told him. Did you see his face?” He chuckled again, turning to me and reaching for my hands.

I held them out as he used his axe to carefully cut the binds, and I rubbed my reddened wrists. “Thanks.” He smiled, then reached out to touch my cheek. I flinched, but didn’t pull away from him.

He pulled his hand away, looking at the blood now coating his hands. “What happened? Your eye was like that before the…” Ralof took another step towards me. “Can you open it?”

I tried to open my right eye, the pain almost unbearable, then shut it again. Ralof winced. “Is it bad? I can’t see it.”

He nodded. “Aye. It’s bad.” He went to touch it again, then thought better of it and wiped his bloody hand on his armor. “So what happened?”

I shook my head, not wanting to think about what happened. I _really_ wanted to forget it, to leave that all behind me and _never_ go back to Cyrodiil. That being said, I wasn’t sure how to do that. I couldn’t see my face, but I imagined it was pretty bad. My eye was cut deeply and my face would most likely be heavily scarred. Maybe I could start over. Maybe I could forget.

Ralof cocked his head to the side, watching me think. “You can’t remember?”

I nodded, remembering what I told the soldiers. “I-I forgot. I don’t know my name either.” Part of me felt bad for lying, but most of me just wanted this all to be over with.

He thought for a moment, looking me up and down. “Well… I need to call you something…” He laughed again. “The Empire just called you ‘prisoner.’” He smile widened. “Back when they called us ‘Stormcloaks’ instead of rebels, they used it to hurt us. _We embraced it._ ” He gestured to the blue on his armor, and the small bear emblem on his shoulder. “Want to have your own little rebellion?”

I laughed too, rubbing my wrists again. “Prisoner it is, then.”


	2. A Dark Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prisoner and Ralof attempt to navigate their way through Helgen's keep, and get as far away from the dragon as they can

“I’ll see you in Sovngarde, brother.” Ralof knelt over the rebel in the keep, setting his axe on the ground beside him to close the corpse’s eyes. He looked up at me, a sad smile on his face. “I thought the Imperials were bad. But, this dragon…”

I moved to sit on the floor next to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. “I think a lot of things kill rebels. Not just Imperials and dragons.”

He shook his head. “Still,  _ we _ shouldn’t be the ones dying. It’s the damned Empire.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you defending the Empire,  _ Imperial _ ?”

The venom in his words caught me off guard, and I scoffed. “I’m  _ not  _ an Imperial, Ralof.”

“What are you then?”

I sighed. “I’m a  _ Colovian _ Imperial.”

“Imperials are all the same.” He stood, using the table beside us to steady himself. “Colovian or otherwise.”

“Do I really seem like other Imperials?” I furrowed my brow. “I don’t know if you saw, but they just tried to cut my head off, too.” I paused, thinking about how to tell him about my past with the Empire without revealing that I actually  _ didn’t _ forget anything. “The Empire hasn’t been kind to me.”

Ralof sighed, holding out a hand to help me up. “Right. Sorry.” He gestured to the dead rebel. “Take his armor. He doesn’t need it anymore.”

“What makes you think I do?”

He looked me up and down, then frowned. “You need protection. And… you look homeless.”

_ I was homeless. _ I thought, then leaned to take the axe from the body. “This will be okay I think. I’ll be fine without armor.”

Ralof shrugged, then turned to the door. “Suit yourself, friend.” He placed his hands on the knob, shaking it and sighing again. “It’s locked.”

The sound of voices down the hall across the room caught my attention, and I immediately recognized one of them. It belonged to the captain. “Get down.” I grabbed Ralof’s arm, pulling him away from the door and crouching by the gate. 

The soldier accompanying the captain pulled a chain on the other side of the wall, causing the gate to screech open. Ralof nodded to me, steadying his axe, and I found myself doing the same. My vision blurred, my excitement overwhelming me. I briefly remembered the rush that overcame me the last time I had to fight someone.  _ Maybe we’ll have to kill them. _ I thought.  _ That’s a rebellious thing to do, right? _

My time to ponder ran out as the captain stepped into the room, reaching into her pocket to retrieve a key. Ralof motioned to the little soldier trailing her like a dog, but I shook my head.  _ I can take her. _ Ralof shrugged, then stood slowly, turning to the soldier. I stayed crouched, carefully tip-toeing over to the captain.

The soldier noticed me, stepping back and pointing. “Captain! It’s the escaped prisoners!”

The captain whipped around, drawing her blade and charging towards me.  _ Shit. _ I ducked under her swing, swiping at her legs with my axe. She hit the ground, and I leaned over her, removing her helmet. I smirked, bringing the axe down against her throat, enjoying watching the blood spill from her jugular as her head rolled away from her body. I sighed.  _ Ah, irony, my best friend. _

I laughed to myself, prying her fingers away from the key in her palm, then standing to help Ralof. To my surprise, he had already finished with the soldier, and was placing his axe back at his hip. He whistled, stepping over the captain to walk towards the locked door. “I’m impressed, Prisoner.” He waved at the door so I would unlock it. “You  _ really _ don’t like Imperials, then?”

“Nope.” I smiled, practically skipping over to the door and placing the key in the lock. “Like I said, they tried to chop my head off.” I looked back at the captain’s body, in two separate pieces on the floor, then shrugged, holding the door open. “Bitch had it coming.”

Ralof laughed, shaking his head. “Remind me not to cross you. I’d like to keep my head.”

I laughed too, skipping a few of the steps on the way down. Ralof stumbled beside me, holding onto my shoulder for balance. The ground shook, and I fell too, collapsing onto the floor. Ralof landed on top of me, shielding my face from the rocks crumbling from the ceiling. We stayed like that, waiting for the shaking to cease. When it did, we both turned to look at the damage. The dragon must have knocked into the keep, completely collapsing the passage we were approaching.

“Damned dragon.” Ralof scoffed, then looked down at me. “Guess we’re not going that way.” 

I nodded, my face growing hot as I pushed him off of me. He landed on his back with a grunt. “There’s another door that way.” I pointed. “Let’s try it.” I extended my hand to help him up, then turned towards the door.

I went to open it, but Ralof stopped me. “Hang on, Prisoner.” He pushed me out of the way, then placed his ear against the door. I raised my eyebrow and he shrugged. “Checking for Imperials.”

“Are there any?” I leaned against the door as well, trying to listen. 

“Beats me.” 

The door creaked open and we fell through, catching the door and trying to hold on. I hit the floor with a thud.

Looking up, we were faced with two burly Imperial guards, both decked out in the full set of armor. I glanced sideways at Ralof as he swiped at their legs with his axe, knocking both of them down. I readied my own axe as I stood, chopping harshly into the chest of one of the guards, then hopping over him to repeat the motion on the other guard.

Ralof nodded, then stepped around the bodies carefully, surveying the room. “It’s for potions, I think.” I followed after him, not bothering to look back at the men we maimed. We approached some barrels at the back of the room, and Ralof used the hilt of his axe to pop the lid open. “It  _ is  _ for potions!”

I laughed, reaching into the barrel and extracting a small red vile, holding it up to the light to admire it. “What’s this for?”

“Healing.”

“What is that?”

Ralof looked up from the barrel with his brow furrowed. “You’ve never heard of a healing potion?” I shook my head, and he sighed. “Damn. You really did forget everything, didn’t you?”

I nodded, even though I hadn’t. But, I really hadn’t heard of a “healing potion.”  _ Ma said that the best way to heal was to rest. Maybe we just couldn’t afford any medicine. _

“Well,” Ralof patted my shoulder, then took the potion from me and hooked it on my belt. “If you get hurt down here, drink this. It’ll make you feel better.” I must’ve still looked confused, because he continued. “I don’t really know anything about alchemy and I can’t explain why that works but it does. Trust me.”

I followed behind him, through the door and out into another hallway. “So… if I’m…  _ dying _ , I can just drink that red stuff, and I’ll be okay?”

“Yeah.”  
I scoffed, then pushed open another door, which lead to another set of stairs. “Is it blood? Is that some sort of vampire thing?”

Ralof chuckled. “No, it’s just a potion, don’t worry.”  
I nodded, then looked back up at him. “You’re not a vampire are you?”  
His laughter grew stronger, echoing off the walls. He struggled to quiet himself, placing his hand over his stomach. “No, I’m not a vampire.”

“That sounds exactly like something a vampire would say.”

Ralof raised his hand to say something, but stopped as he heard the crash from the door at the bottom of the stairs. He groaned, then readied his axe again. “This won’t stop anytime soon, will it?”

I shook my head, then smiled. “You’re a rebel. You should be used to fighting Imperials by now.”

His eyes grew dark, and he looked past me at the door. “Can anyone get used to killing another person?”

He moved to the door, opening it and charging in. I never answered his question, because I  _ had _ gotten used to it. The rush that killing brought was wonderful, and I didn’t intend to lose that rush anytime soon.

 


	3. A Wooden City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prisoner and Ralof take a few moments to recover after escaping from the dragon with Ralof's sister. Then, Prisoner heads to Whiterun to alert the Jarl of the dragon's presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI FRIENDS HI HI HELLO
> 
> Sorry this has been a while. Also sorry for me jumping around in fics, after some serious thought and consideration I've decided that I should've started Vita's story from the beginning, so here it is! I'm not going to work on Touching the Sky or Beyond Death until I am done writing the events leading up to those stories. (This is going to take awhile, because I'll have to write about the main questline, the dawnguard questline and the dark brotherhood questline before we even get close to the events of Beyond Death, which I should finish before continuing Touching the Sky.) My dumb self started working backwards and jumping forward EIGHT YEARS in time. Yeah, touching the sky doesn't happen until EIGHT years after this story. So I'm gonna pick up from here. There's a lot more to come, so let's get this party started!
> 
> (But yeah, I'm going to take down those two stories, and probably also Drunk Walk Home, just to make this storyling more coherent. Sorry!)

 

I looked at the village as we approached it, smiling to myself. Ralof had been incredibly helpful while we were escaping the keep. We eventually ended up in a cave filled with spiders and a bear, and he kept fighting the whole time. When we finally emerged from the keep, and waited for the dragon to fly away, Ralof told me a little bit about the province to add to my limited knowledge. In just a few hours, he had become a friend. He even gave me his bow when I told him I thought I preferred archery to axes.

If that wasn’t enough, he told me about his sister that lived in a village not too far from Helgen, who would be willing to help us out.  _ Riverwood.  _ The archway grew before us, and Ralof pointed to the mill. “Gerdur works there, with her husband.” He smiled down at me, placing his hand on my back. “She can give us a place to stay until we can figure out where to go from here. We can lay low until we’re sure the Imperials are completely gone.”

I nodded. “That sounds nice. I can’t wait to meet her.” We entered the village cautiously, looking around in every direction to check for any soldiers. We  _ were _ supposed to be dead, after all. I watched a blonde Nord fighting with his mother about seeing something in the sky before turning back to Ralof. “The dragon must have flown over here.”

“Most likely.” Ralof shook his head. “Damn. This village doesn’t have much protection. Someone will have to warn the Jarl.” He stopped before the mill, looking down at me with bright blue eyes. “This is crazy, isn’t it? A dragon?”

I sighed. “Maybe.” I looked up at the sky, trying to shake the feeling that it could swoop down at any moment and attack again. “Or, maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign for what?”

“I don’t know, Ralof.” I reached up to run my hand through my hair. “I just feel…”

Ralof exhaled sharply, then continued towards the mill, letting me catch up to him. We rounded the building to the back, approaching a small Nord, leaning over a fence and gazing out at the river in front of her. Ralof’s smile grew wide. “Gerdur!”

The woman whipped around, and the resemblance was so uncanny I had to look at her closer. The same blonde hair, the same blue eyes. “Mara’s Mercy.”And, as she spoke, the same thick accent. “It’s good to see you!” Gerdur closed the distance between us quickly, throwing her arms around her brother and squeezing him tightly. “But…” She lowered her voice. “Is it safe for you to be here?”

Ralof stepped back a bit. “Gerdur…”

She shook her head. “We heard that Ulfric had been captured. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Ralof steadied his hands on his sister’s shoulders. “At least now I am.”

Gerdur’s eyes grew wide, and she started patting his chest and his arms. “Are you hurt? What’s happened?” Her gaze shifted to me, and her brow furrowed. “Who’s this? One of your comrades?”

“Well…” Ralof turned to me, releasing his sister. “This is Prisoner. She helped me escape.”

“Prisoner?” Gerdur’s thick accent was beginning to hurt my ears. “What kind of a name is that?”

Ralof leaned over to his sister. “She doesn’t know her real name.” I felt my face flush as he put his arm around my shoulder, grinning broadly. “But, she’s a damned good warrior. Saw her take out several Imperials.” He released me, nodding. “She helped me escape. I owe my life to her.”

Gerdur’s eyes began to water, and I raised my hands up in defense. “Look, I-” The Nord threw her arms around me, hugging my close to her chest. I moved my arms to pat her back lightly. “It’s nothing, really. If anything, Ralof here was the one saving me.”

She stepped back, watching me for a moment before moving to touch the blood dried on my cheek. “Who did this? Imperials?”

“No.” Ralof stepped beside me. “It’s been like that since before we were captured. She doesn’t remember that either.”

Gerdur shook her head, then placed her hand on my back, guiding us towards the town. “Well, we should at least get you cleaned up. Then we can see what the damage is.” She glanced at us. “Plus, you can tell me what happened.”  
“Oh, Gerdur.” Ralof looked towards the sky again, fearful of the dragon’s return. “You wouldn’t believe it. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”

I stepped over a chicken in the road, trying not to hurt it as Gerdur kept pushing me, deep in conversation. “What happened? How did you escape?”

Ralof laughed a little, kicking a rock with his boot. “It’s a long story, sister. We’ll get to it. Right now, we need to rest, I think. Eat, sleep, calm down a bit.” He looked at me, moving a piece of my hair behind my ear. “And see what we can do about that eye of yours.”

I shook my head. “No.” They both looked at me. “I don’t want to intrude. I’m not even a rebel or anything.”

Gerdur smiled. “You’ve aided the rebellion in more ways than you know. And, you helped my Ralof.”

“Aye.” Ralof pushed open the door to a house, which I assumed was Gerdur’s. “You’ve shown that you’re more than willing to help our cause. You’re a rebel in my book.” I grinned, and he nudged my shoulder. “Besides, we went through all of that together. You need a drink just as much as I do.”

Gerdur moved to a cabinet, grabbing a pitcher of water and some cloths. “Alright then, tell me what happened.”

Ralof sighed, slouching into a chair and gesturing for me to sit on the table. I did, and he passed me a piece of bread. Gerdur walked over to us, gently pressing the damp cloth to my eye. Ralof bit into his own bread. “Where should we start?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


I gazed up at the castle before me, admiring the intricate wooden molding.  _ Nords. _ I thought, placing my foot on the first step.  _ They have no idea how sad this is.  _ Compared to the Nibenese architecture in Cyrodiil, this palace was pretty bad. 

After Ralof explained what happened to Gerdur, and she did what she could to help my eye, we parted ways. Ralof headed to Windhelm to make sure that Ulfric Stormcloak made it out of Helgen alive, and I went to Whiterun, to notify the Jarl about the dragon. Riverwood had no way of protecting itself, especially not against something as destructive as that dragon. So, if they didn’t want to end up in ruins, like Helgen, then someone had to let the Jarl know. For some reason, that someone was me.

I wasn’t entirely sure why I volunteered to go. My best guess would be that I felt bad for accepting all of the help Gerdur offered me. I stayed with her, her husband, her son, and Ralof for at least a day. After she looked at my eye and gave us some food, I basically passed out. I was so grateful for what they did to help me that I just  _ had _ to help them, too.

Well, the joke was on me, because there I was, ascending the stairs to a poorly made, wooden palace, going to talk to, undoubtedly, another smelly Nord. I reached up to adjust the bandages covering different parts of my face. Though my eye was completely covered, the cuts along the other side of my face had stopped bleeding sometime during my slumber and had scabbed over enough to not need to be covered. 

I thought about the man I was going to speak to, stopping on the stairs and thinking about his title.  _ What even is a Jarl? That’s what they called Ulfric right? _ I shook my head, continuing my trek up the stairs and running my hands through my tangled, matted, waist length hair. Though Gerdur had been very kind to me, she didn’t have any mirrors, nor had I had time to bathe properly. As I stepped up onto the platform before the entrance, the guards took a step back.

_ Gods, I must look insane. _ I kept messing with my hair, growing concerned that the only way I could describe its texture was… crunchy. I didn’t even have anything to put it up with, so I guessed that if I was going to meet someone as important as a  _ Jarl _ looking like a hot mess, I might as well own it. I nodded at the guards, flicking my hair over my shoulder and striding up to the massive doors to push them open.

The inside of the palace was just as underwhelming as the stairs leading up to it. Huge wooden archways and chandeliers drew my attention, and I wondered how something so simple could be considered a palace. In Cyrodiil, everything was huge and made of stone, so the castles were perfectly carved and intricate. This place just seemed like it was thrown together.

A few servants watched me as I entered, raising their eyebrows before continuing their work. I sighed, looking further into the room before my eyes landed on another set of stairs, and I decided to climb them. They led to what seemed to be some sort of dining hall, the large tables had a few children sitting around them, and a few others. A dark haired, stern looking Nord sat at the end of the furthest table, glaring at me with her arms crossed. She cleared her throat gaining the attention from the few standing at the end of the room.

On a raised platform there was a small throne, with a burly man sitting on top of it lazily. On his right stood a dark elf, her arms moving swiftly to the sword holstered at her hip, and on his left was a gangly Imperial, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

The dark elf spoke first, drawing her sword mid sentence. “Who are you? You have no business here. Leave at once.”

I sighed taking a step closer. “Look I-”

“Explain yourself,  _ Imperial. _ ”

I rolled my eyes, deciding to just close the distance between us altogether. The Nord woman at the table stood, moving her hands to her own sword, ready to protect or attack if she needed to. “That’s what I’m trying to do. So, if you’d let me speak and put your-”

“Step away from the Jarl.” The elf ordered, and I stopped in my tracks. Then, with a quiet chuckled, I took another step forward. She raised her sword, getting closer to me as well, and holding the blade with the tip aimed at my nose.

“Irileth.” She turned towards the man on the throne, glaring. He sat upright. “Let her be.”

I smirked as she turned back to me, still wary. “Yeah,  _ Irileth. _ Get your sword out of my face.” She opened her mouth to protest, then stepped backwards, placing the blade back in its holster. I turned, stepping towards the throne, taking note of the large sculpture of a dragons head that hung above the throne. I pointed to it. “That.”

The man looked up at the dragon, then back at me. He scoffed, folding his arms. “Well, I trust you have something vitally important to tell me?”

“I just did!” I pointed at the dragon again, then laughed and turned back to the Jarl. “Okay so there’s a dragon and it attacked and flew over this little wooden city and everyone there is freaking the hell out so-”

“We heard Helgen was destroyed but…” He looked to Irileth, and to the man on his left. “A dragon? Dragons are just stories… Are you sure? It wasn’t some Stormcloak raid?” He looked me up and down, assessing my horrid appearance. “You weren’t just seeing things?”

I huffed, folding my arms. “I’m not crazy, if that’s what your asking. I was there, I saw it. The Imperials were trying to kill Ulfric Stormcloak and this huge  _ thing _ flew out of nowhere and landed on the tower and started killing people right and left.”

The Jarl thought for a few moments, then looked to Irileth. “You were right. It really was a dragon.” I sighed again, folding my arms and looking over at the Nord woman, still standing with her weapon drawn and watching me warily. She narrowed her eyes when she saw me looking at her, so I turned back to the Jarl.

He looked back at me, standing from his throne. His height intimidated me. “What was happening in Helgen? You said the Empire was trying to kill Ulfric Stormcloak?”

I nodded. “They captured him and a lot of rebels, and took them there to execute them. The dragon swooped down before they could get to Ulfric.” I continued to look up at him, silently praying he wouldn’t ask why I was there to witness it. “The people of the little wooden city are terrified. They saw it fly over them and they know that they don’t have enough protection or guards to fight a dragon.”

The Jarl nodded, stroking his beard then gesturing to Irileth. “Head to the barracks and send several men to Riverwood.” She nodded, then quickly walked past the large tables and down the stairs to exit the castle. The Jarl turned to me again, reaching out to take my hand. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. My name is Balgruuf. As you may have guessed, I am the Jarl of this hold.”

I shook his hand. “Prisoner.”

“What?”

“That’s my name.”

He furrowed his brow, but didn’t press any further, instead allowing his gaze to fall to my feet. “You… are hurt?”

I looked at my bare feet, the ran my fingers through my hair again. “Yeah. I just ran from a dragon, took a nap, then walked all the way here. Of course I’m hurt.”

Balgruuf looked at my face, staring at the bandages. “Did the dragon…” 

“N-” I stopped myself, not wanting to tell him that I was one of the people they were trying to execute. “Y-yes. There was… a lot that happened… really quickly.” I thought for a moment, trying to keep the lie simple. “I don’t remember much of it. Just the dragon.”

He nodded, placing his hand on my back and turning me towards the entrance. “We have a temple, here in the city. The priestesses there are gifted healers. They can help you.” He snapped his fingers towards the Nord woman, gesturing for her to follow us. She did, hesitantly. “Take her to Danica Pure-Spring.” She nodded, finally sheathing her weapon and folding her arms again.

The Jarl continued, smiling. “Afterwards, come back here. You can get some sleep, bathe, and I’ll arrange for some...proper clothing. Anyone brave enough to face a dragon doesn’t deserve to be…” He searched for the right word, but decided not to continue.

I stepped away from him. “Thank you, but… I didn’t really do anything. I just ran from it. I really don’t deserve anything.”

He smiled again, turning and heading back to his throne. “Then perhaps after you’re well-rested you can run a few errands for me.” 

_ Oh. Of course. _

I nodded, looking up at the woman and waiting for her to lead the way.


	4. A Serene Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prisoner and the mysterious Nord head to the Temple of Kynareth to heal Prisoner's wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there's something kind of (not really) graphic that happens here so brace yo selves

Descending the stairs was a much easier treck than climbing them, and I got to see the rest of the city. There were three levels, the town filled with people walking about and shopping down in the lowest district, and a group of warriors sitting on another set of stairs leading up to this giant wooden boat.  _ Nordic architecture is weird.  _ I thought, catching myself after almost tripping down a step.

The woman leading me scoffed, rolling her eyes. I folded my arms, pouting and looking up at her. “Okay, Lady.” I pointed up at her, matching the gaze of her steel blue eyes. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?” Her voice was surprisingly higher pitched than I thought it would be. The gruff of her outer appearance made her seem like she would sound… tougher. “I don’t have a deal.” She shrugged, continuing down the last few steps and gesturing to the building on her right. “The Jarl just wishes for me to take you here.”

I narrowed my eyes, smiling a little when I saw her flinch at the sound coming from my bare feet hitting the pavement. It was definitely funny compared to the clank of her steel boots. I moved my feet quicker, pattering them against the pavement before she halted again, whipping around to glare at me. “I thought you were in pain.”

I shrugged. “I’m hurt. Not in pain. Not anymore, at least.” I flashed a toothy smile as she turned around again, hurrying to the building and pushing open the door.

“This is the Temple of Kynareth.” She waved at the room, a large circular room with a few beds scattered around it. Though most were empty, a few were filled with men, each groaning in pain. The woman walked straight through the middle of the room and to a smaller room in the back, peering around for a moment before finding someone else to talk to.

I tuned out as she was talking to the priestess, and instead roamed the circular room, checking it out for myself. I walked over to one of the groaning men, standing over his bed and squinting my eye. “Why are you here?” I asked, poking his arm.

He screamed in response, a loud, painful sound that made me take a few steps back. A priestess ran to his bed, shooing me away and quickly tending to him. The woman that accompanied me shot me a look, then waved for me to go back to her. I did, stepping into the small room and furrowing my brow as she closed the curtain behind us.

She gestured to the room itself, holding only a few stools and a bed in the center. Next it, stood another priestess, old but seemingly lovely. She greeted me warmly, placing her hand on my back and guiding me to the bed. “I’m Danica Pure-Spring. I hear you’ve been through quite a lot recently.”

I nodded, sitting on the bed and wiggling around to get comfortable. “I guess.” She nodded, grabbing two of the stools and handing one to the armored Nord, who thanked her and sat down. The other she moved to sit on her self, scooting towards me and reaching up to remove the bandagess from my head.

The other woman exhaled sharply as Danica leaned over to place the bloodied rags in a bucket under the bed. I raised my eyebrow, and she shook her head. “It looks bad.” 

I reached up to touch my eye, but Danica held up a hand to stop me. She placed her hands on either side of my face, asking me to open my eye as wide as I could. I did, causing a quick flash of pain, reminding me of what happened. My hand shot up to my face, covering my eye and holding it for a minute. 

Danica sighed, running her hand over my head soothingly. “Whoever did that must’ve been really angry, huh?” She laughed, but I nodded, pretending not to notice the armored Nord furrow her brow. Danica smiled at me comfortingly, gesturing for me to lie back on the table. “You’re not going to like this.” She said, standing from her stool and moving from the room, slipping out through the curtain.

The other woman stood, too, closing the distance between us and standing over the bed. “That’s not from a dragon.” She said bluntly. Reaching out to touch my eye.

I smacked her hand away, scooting further away from her. “You don’t know what dragon cuts look like.”

“No, but I’m very familiar with the work of daggers.” I gulped, turning away from her and folding my arms. She pressed further. “You told the Jarl your name was  _ Prisoner. _ What kind of a name is that?”

I stared at the wall beside me. “It’s not. I don’t know my real name.”

She laughed, and I could hear her boots clink against the wood floors as she moved to the side of the room I was facing, squating by the bed to maintain eye contact with me. “I suppose you expect me to also believe you don’t remember what happened to your eye?” I rolled over again, turning my back to her. She sighed. “People with names like  _ Prisoner _ are liars, Imperial.”

I heard her stand with the sound of the curtain being opened again, and I turned to watch her sit down as Danica entered the room with a small box. She smiled down at me as she moved the stool to sit by my head, and I looked up at her, confused. “What am I not going to like?” 

“Well, from what I can tell, there’s no saving that.” I frowned, reaching up to cover my eye again. “There’s no way I’d be able to restore your eyesight, since so much of the eye itself has been… carved out.” I looked to the other woman, who folded her arms again. Danica placed her hand on my head again, smoothing my matted hair. “In order to heal the rest of the wound, I would have to remove it completely.”

I sputtered, smacking her hand away from my head and sitting upright. “You want to cut my eye out completely?” She nodded. “Well, no thank you.” I turned to the other woman. “Tell Jarl Balgruuf that I’m sorry, but I’m not gonna help him with whatever errands he wants me to run. I’m not doing this.”

Danica sighed. “If I don’t remove it, the infection will spread and you could die.” I looked at her. “Maybe if I had been able to treat it right as it happened, I could’ve healed it but it’s been like that for a few days, hasn’t it?” I nodded, slowly. She patted the bed, and, reluctantly, I laid back down. 

She gestured to the other woman, mouthing something I couldn’t read. I was confused for a moment before the armored Nord moved to pin my to the bed, holding me firmly in place. Danica held out a rag for me, and I raised an eyebrow. “To bite down on.” She explained, not waiting for me to grab it and shoving the rag in my mouth anyway.

I had felt pain before, but it seemed as though this pain was magnified due to the memory it caused. As if the actual event itself was happening again, only three thousand times worse.

_ My own screams echoed from underneath the bridge as I struggled against him. There were only two things I could focus on. Getting away from him, and the searing pain rippling through my skull as he drove the blunt blade into my eye socket. _

Though she had been rough, I was thankful for the cloth to bite down on and the other woman holding me down. My head throbbed, the whole world around me pulsating vibrating along with my skull. I winced again as a bright light filled the room. A yellow glow rolling over me and slowly taking the pain away. This huge wave of relief crashed down upon me as the glowing light faded, and I could finally make out Danica’s hands roaming over my body.

She trailed her hands down to my feet, healing the cuts and burns, than ran them back up to my face, healing the rest of the marks on my face. She smiled down at me as she removed the cloth from my mouth, and gestured for the other woman to release me. Danica held her hand out to me, taking my hand and helping me rise from the bed and stand on my feet. For the first time in what felt like  _ years _ , my feet didn’t hurt.

My whole body felt better, not just the places where I had been wounded, but my back felt straighter and my bones felt at ease. Even my mind felt clearer, to my surprise. I opened my mouth to thank her, but she shook her head, instead reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small amulet. She placed it in my hand, then held open the curtain for me to step outside. “Kynareth protect you.” 

I looked up at the armored Nord, who stepped in front of me and began to exit the building. I followed her outside and back up the steps of the palace. I stumbled around for a bit, admiring how great I felt and finally being able to feel how smooth the stone was against my bare feet. I couldn’t remember the last time my  _ feet _ felt good, especially not during all the years I wandered, homeless, throughout Cyrodiil.

The woman pushed the door open to Dragonsreach, waiting for me to follow in before shutting it again, then leading me up another set of stairs, past the throne, which now lacked the Jarl and the others, and through another large door. Unsurprisingly, this room led to  _ another _ set of stairs, and I followed up them quietly. We passed through a hallway of doors that seemingly led to bedrooms, and she pushed open a smaller door which held only two things: a small tub and an old woman, filling the bath with hot water.

The Nord pushed me into the room then shut the door, and I could hear her heavy footsteps clanking back down the hall. The servant nodded to me, gesturing to the tub and the small table beside it, holding an assortment of soaps and a pile of clean clothes. She nodded again in silence as she left the room, shutting the door and leaving me alone.

Not even the gods could believe how quickly I tore the tattered, blood stained clothes from my body, yanking each article off in desperation of getting clean. I  _ hated _ feeling dirty, and though I never really had a proper place to bathe, I usually cleaned myself as well as I could in a stream or waterfall. I climbed into the tub, feeling the hot water sear my skin but not caring as I sank into it, eager to relax and feel even better than I already did.

I hadn’t had a proper bath in several years, and spent a long time just soaking in the warm water, leaning my head back and shutting my eyes. With my eyes shut, I saw flashes of the past few days. Quick remembrances of running, blood, and the color of the dragon’s eyes. Of all the things that had happened, I couldn’t shake the image of that thing. It’s ruby eyes boring into my soul like it knew me.  _ Like it was speaking to me. _

I shook my head, knowing it was crazy for a  _ dragon _ to exist at all, let alone know how to speak. I reached to the table next to me to grab the liquidized and heavily fragranced soap, opening the small bottle and pouring the entirety of it’s contents into my damp hair. I struggled with the length of it, pulling the tangles with my fingers and massaging my scalp. Though I liked my hair’s length, it was definitely… problematic.

I cupped my hands to collect more water, running it over my hair until I was sure most of the soap was rinsed out. Then, I grabbed some other soaps to scrub my body, cleaning away the dirt and blood until the soapy bathwater became a murky brown. I lied there for a few moments more, allowing myself to stew in my own filthy water until finally deciding to climb out.

Using the towel that laid on top of the pile of clothes, I scrubbed my body again, so thankful to feel clean after several years of dirt and grime. I moved the towel to my hair, scrubbing at the frayed strands to dry them as best as I could. Due to it’s length, it never dried quickly, no matter what I did, but towels certainly helped. I looked to the table of clothing, rummaging through the articles before realising that they were clothes made to wear under armor.  Simple pieces of black fabric, cut to cover every inch of the body. 

I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question it, throwing on the somewhat loose fitting undergarments and pulling the black monstrosities over my head and legs. I looked at the table again, noticing that there was something inside of the socks. I pulled them over my feet, holding the mysterious thing in the palm of my hand before realizing that it was an eyepatch.

I laughed for a moment, turning towards the door and realizing that a small mirror was attached to it. Stepping up to the mirror, I ran my hands through my still damp hair, finally being able to see what I looked like after all I had been through. I still looked like me, to some extent, but I was definitely… different. Three long scars dominated the left side of my face, stretching from my cheeks down to my neck, and one even cover the left side of my bottom lip. The right side of my face seemed unharmed, at least, it  _ did _ until I opened my eye. 

I gasped audibly to see the empty socket. Danica had fixed the nerve endings so I could still move my eyelid, but other than that, there was nothing there. Just an empty, black hole. I immediately shut my eye and began tying the eyepatch to my head. 

Pushing the door open, I began to walk out into the long hallway again, braiding a few strands of my hair absentmindedly as my sock-covered feet padded their way through the palace. I tried my best to remember where the throne room was. Though I only got turned around a few times, my hair had dried by the time I found my way to it. Looking around the room for the Jarl. The woman from before sat at the table again, pointing to a smaller room off the side of the eating area.

I walked towards it, leaning around the corner to see the Jarl, and next to him, a much smaller man in a blue robe. They were huddled around a table, reading over some sort of book. I cleared my throat and Balgruuf finally looked up. “Ah! Prisoner!” He smiled, gesturing to me, but looking down at the other man. “This is the one I was telling you about.” He turned to me then, gesturing to the man beside him. “This is Farengar, my court wizard.”

I waved at him awkwardly as he shut the book they were reading and folded his arms. He looked up to the Jarl, who nodded. “Farengar has been doing some research, and I would like for you to go fetch something for him.”

Farengar laughed, shifting from side to side. “When he says ‘fetch’ he really means ‘delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there.’”

Balgruuf nodded, and I looked between the two of them before sighing. “Okay. Where am I going and what am I fetching?”

“Straight to the point, eh? No need for tedious hows and whys. I like that. Leave those details to your betters, am I right?” Farengar laughed again, silenced only by a quick side glance from the Jarl. “Oh, um...right.” He flipped through one of the books on the table. “I began to search for information about dragons - where had they gone all those years ago? And where were they coming from?

“I learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow - a ‘ _ Dragonstone _ ’ said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tabler - no doubt interred in the main chamber - and bring it to me. Simplicity itself.” He smiled, folding his arms again.

I shrugged. “Okay, I guess I can do that. Go to this place and get a map. Gotcha.”

Jarl Balgruuf smiled too, striding from the room and waving for me to follow him over to the throne by the place where the woman still sat, angrily eating a piece of bread. “Bleak Falls Barrow is just above Riverwood. There’s a path leading to it down by the mill. It shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

“Eh.” I shrugged again, leaning against the table and taking a piece of bread from the woman’s plate. “Gives me something to do, at least.”

He laughed, reaching for a bag propped up against his throne.He held it out for me, and I stood straight up, popping the bread into my mouth and chewing quickly.  _ Guess that’s why he gave me under clothes. _

The bag’s contents clinked as the Jarl reached inside, fumbling around before retrieving the iron chestplate from inside. You fought a dragon, and you might have to fight some more things in the Barrow. I figured you could at least use something to help protect yourself.”

I took the bag eagerly, setting it on the floor to admire the chestplate in my hands. The lights glinted off of the smooth iron, and I smiled. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you!” The Jarl smiled again, patting me on the back. “Retrieving the uh- thing that Farengar has requested will help us to understand the dragons, if it really exists. We haven’t found anyone willing to go get it yet.”

I raised an eyebrow at the way he said  _ willing _ . “You say that as if it’s going to be dangerous.” 

“It might be. Farengar has prepared a few potions of health for you to take with you.” He shrugged. “We’re honestly not sure what you’re going to find in there.” 

I sighed. “Guess I better get going then, huh?”


End file.
